


Side by Side

by rosegoldmarble



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: (i hope these are all the tags?), Bonding, Gen, Hugs, Other, Parental Roy, Parental Royed - Freeform, Parental!Royed, au where Roy only regains sight in one eye after the Promised Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 06:05:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11374122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosegoldmarble/pseuds/rosegoldmarble
Summary: Roy and Ed, fighting side by side throughout the years, and growing up.-Roy thinks back to when he was blind in both eyes. To Ed asking for permission to lead him around by the arm for the first time, his voice soft. He remembers talking of resignation, of maybe deserving this, and Ed’s hand gripping his arm tightly and saying, “Bullshit.”Maybe he doesn’t quite deserve bodily functions being taken away from him, but he certainly doesn’t deserve Ed.





	Side by Side

_13_

It all starts one evening when Mustang protects Fullmetal from a rogue alchemist. He shoots the man in the leg, twice to be sure, and once he’s down, Mustang kicks him in the head, rendering him unconscious.  

“Hey!” Fullmetal shouts. Mustang lowers his gaze to Fullmetal, who looks livid, for some reason. “I had it! You didn’t have to do that!”

“What?” Mustang says, incredulous. “He was going to kill you. I was just-”

“I _said_ I had it,” Fullmetal insists, practically _growling_ with frustration. “I was just gonna knock him out, you- you didn’t have to shoot him in the leg! Twice!”

Mustang scowls. “Look, kid-”

“I am _not_ a kid,” he retorts. “Don’t treat me like that, I’m a Major.”

The _nerve_ of this brat. “...Are you pulling rank right now just to prove you’re not a kid?” Mustang sighs, long-sufferingly. “Fullmetal, Major or not, you’re still twelve-”

“I’m thirteen,” Fullmetal corrects curtly. Mustang’s thought process stumbles for a moment. When had he turned thirteen?

“Twelve, thirteen, doesn’t matter. What matters is that I just subdued a rogue alchemist, and you have no right to get angry with me about it, or object to what I do to protect this city. Do you understand?”

Fullmetal is clearly trying to hold himself back from saying something he’ll regret. “Fine,” he manages at last. “Whatever. But you know I could’ve handled it. I bet you just wanted the excuse to shoot someone.”

Roy goes rigid. He swallows, trying not to think about that, trying not to think about anything. “N-No,” he starts, and something breaks in his voice that alerts Fullmetal. The thirteen-year-old looks up at him, eyes inquisitive.

After a moment, Fullmetal shrugs, turns on his heel, and begins to walk away. “Didn’t mean to offend you, Colonel,” he calls over his shoulder.

An apology and just simply calling him ‘Colonel”, not ‘Colonel-bastard’. He was clearly trying doubly hard to get out of any potential trouble.

Mustang looks after Fullmetal for a moment, down at his gloved right hand, and then at his radio. He has to call this one in.

He hates calling things in.

 

_14_

The following things Ed observes within a few precious seconds.

A man was swinging around a large metal pipe, trying to clock Mustang with it.

Mustang was trying to stop him, but he was at a physical disadvantage. He didn’t use flame alchemy because the guy was moving way too fast. The colonel must have been afraid of missing and heating up the metal weapon, which could be used against him. And Mustang wasn’t using his gun. Ed’s eyes widened.

The colonel was afraid of accidentally killing the man.

Ed’s hands twitch, desperately wanting clap and transmute the ground, but with Mustang and the man moving so fast, he could easily end up tripping up Mustang instead of the man, which would potentially put the colonel in an even more dangerous situation.

Alright - only one option. He needs to join the colonel in hand-to-hand combat with this guy.

As Ed steps forward, the man lands a hit with the pipe to Mustang’s head, knocking Mustang to the ground.

_No._

The man drops his weight and straddles Mustang, raising the pipe to presumably smash his face in.

“ _Hey, bastard!_ ” Ed barks.

The blow to the head had made Mustang’s vision swim, but he could see enough to catch a glint of silver swing and knock the man on top of him aside. He feels a rumble and a grunt- it takes a moment to realize it was probably Elric attacking the man with an earth transmutation.

Mustang’s head is still ringing - _shit,_ is he about to pass out? He blinks, and his vision clears minutely.

“Damn it- Colonel, are you okay?” Right, he had to focus.

Mustang manages to sit up. “Yeah, I think.” He looks up, squinting to try and stop the world from spinning. Something in Elric’s expression changes.

“Shit, no you’re not,” Elric says, dropping to his knees in front of him. Mustang squints again.

“Your hand,” Mustang says, gesturing weakly to where the automail hand should be, but instead there was just a smashed up wrist. When did that happen? Did he end up passing out for a while? How long had it been?

The teenager gives him a weird look. “Yeah, I had to knock him out the old fashion way. Just, don’t pass out, okay? I’m gonna call for help.” He reaches for Mustang’s radio.

There’s a slight scraping of metal somewhere behind him, like someone picking up-

A gunshot sounds from right beside him. The colonel looks down to see Elric still kneeling there, but holding Mustang's gun, not his radio. The colonel turns to see the man just a few feet away, holding up the metal pipe.  Beat up but surprisingly still conscious, the man screams and clutches at his leg. In that moment, Mustang feels helpless as he watches a _terrified_ Elric take a breath and take another shot. This one goes through the man’s hand and into his leg. The man screams again.

“You- _you little shit!_ ” The man, somehow still not completely incapacitated, swings the pipe and knocks the gun out of Elric’s hand. But before he can get another hit in, Mustang raises a hand.

And begins to transmute the air out of his lungs.

Eyes narrowed, Mustang watches as the man writhes and grasps at his own throat, until he slumps over, just inches in front of him. The colonel reaches over to the man’s hands, which he handcuffs, _much_ too tightly.

He looks over to his subordinate, to find him shaking. Shaking _badly_.

“Fullmetal,” he says. The alchemist in question does not answer.  

“Fullmetal,” he says again, putting his hands on his shoulders. Elric nearly jumps out of his skin, head jerking up to meet Mustang’s gaze, but he seems to look straight through him. His flesh hand, the one he used to pull the trigger, twitches.

“It’s just me, pipsqueak,” Mustang says quietly. Something in his head tilts violently. _Please don’t pass out, not now._

Miraculously, recognition flares in Elric’s eyes. “You-” he says thickly, voice shaking as badly as the rest of him. “You gotta-gotta be an idiot if you think you get away with calling me that after I just s-saved your ass, you bastard.”

“You’ve never used a gun before, have you?” Mustang regrets that question immediately. _Stupid._

“...No,” Elric looks down at his lap. “Hawkeye taught me all the- all the basics but she never - I never really used one before.” He takes a breath, sounding on the verge of tears. He buries his face in his hands. “God, I’m so stupid! I should have checked if he was really knocked out, I should’ve handcuffed him- _goddamnit_.”

Something constricts in Mustang’s chest. “It’s-it’s okay. You couldn’t have known.”

Elric huffs out something that’s probably supposed to be a laugh, but doesn’t sound like one. “Well, I’ve decided that I officially hate shooting.”

Sonetimes he forgets just how _young_ Elric was. Fourteen. Fourteen years old and firing a gun. _Damn it_. Mustang searches his foggy brain for some way to comfort him. He has an impulse to touch Elric’s shoulder again, but given how he reacted earlier, he decides against it. Finally, he says, “Yeah, me too.”

“What?” Elric says, sounding bewildered. “You?” Then, he sobers. “You- you really were trying to protect me, weren’t you?” His tone is something he’s never heard from Elric before- gentle and timid.

“You mean when I… transmuted the oxygen out of that man’s lungs?” He really needed to talk to Elric about this. Would he tell anyone? He needed to tell him not to tell anyone.

Elric shakes his head. “No- no- damn it, I’m being stupid. I need- I need to call for help. You’re clearly-”

“Elric, what is it?”

He blinks, then looks away. “I mean when… when I was fighting that rogue alchemist and you shot him in the leg. Last autumn.”

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah I was.”  Mustang pauses, then says, “Elric.”

The teenager attempts a lopsided smirk. “What, not ‘Fullmetal”? Are we on strictly last name basis with each other now?”

Mustang snorts quietly. “Sure, just- Elric. I’m sorry you had to use a gun. You clearly weren’t prepared and I know you don’t like to hear it, but you are young and-”

Elric’s smirk widens. “You trying to thank me for saving your life, Colonel-bastard?” he asks jokingly.  “Because you could just say thank you.”

“You insolent-”

“You’re welcome, Mustang,” Elric says. At some point, when Mustang didn’t notice, the shakiness had left his voice. “Now I’m going to save you again by calling for backup.”

“...Thanks, kid,” Mustang replies feebly, putting a hand to his head. _Damn it,_ it was actually a miracle he had managed to stay lucid enough through all this. How long had it been?

“Don’t call me-” Elric stops when he notices how woozy Mustang looks. “Actually, sure, call me whatever, just keep talking.”

“Wait, make sure not to…” Mustang trails off for a second. “That thing I did, transmuting the oxygen from that man’s lungs. I don’t want anyone to know about that.”

“...Okay.” When Mustang looks surprised at how easy it was to get him to agree, Elric shakes his head. “Look, Mustang, I trust you not to transmute the air out of my lungs or my friends’ lungs, so I won’t tell anyone. Besides-” the teenager grins, looking more like himself than he had in awhile (Mustang feels strangely relieved) “-this means I can take all the credit for taking this guy out.”

 

_15_

Edward whoops from behind him. Mustang turns away from the woman he just kicked in the head and knocked out, raising an eyebrow.

“Just shocked that you can finally kick at head height,” Edward says, grinning. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Head height is relative,” Mustang replies simply, and raises his foot to about Edward’s height to demonstrate.

“Yeah, yeah,” he snipes back, but there’s no heat to it. In fact, Edward’s smile has barely faded.

“We could be like, a two-man army,” the teenager jokes. 

“Don’t you mean a one-and-a-half man army?” Mustang pauses to let it sink in, then continues. “Because you’re so short.”

“Damn you, I was being nice, saying you were worthy enough to team up with me! Even if you are totally useless in the rain.”

The colonel tries to give him a disdainful look, but Edward sees right through it. His mouth twitches in an almost- smile.

“It could’ve worked. We could've had team attacks. Clearly I'd be the brawn and the brains of the operation, but you could help with your flame alchemy from afar. When it’s not raining, that is.”

Mustang reaches over and flicks him on the head.

“Hey!” Edward squawks. “You-!”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” Mustang interrupts. “I would definitely be the backbone of the operation. Especially with the team attacks. The most logical and most effective one being me picking you up and throwing you at the enemy.” Before Edward can start his boisterous objections, he tacks on: ”Because you’re so short.”

_“Absolutely not, you crazy bastard!”_

 

_26_

"What's up, Colonel?"

Roy barely glances up from his paperwork. "General,” he corrects. “I'm going to be the Fuhrer in a few weeks, and this is the respect I get?

"Right, my bad. What's up, Flame?"

"It's good to see you again too, Edward." Ed had been turning twenty-four the last time he saw him. Now, he was twenty-six. Neither of them had wanted to wait two years for a visit, but things had been extremely busy, so they had to stick to phone calls and letters.

(Twenty-six. He had met Ed when he was about twenty-six. It was...odd, to see him this old. But good.)

“So, really, what's up? What are you doing there?” Ed walks around the desk to peer over Roy’s shoulder.

Roy breathes deeply. “Paperwork. I've been told that even the Fuhrer has to do a lot of paperwork. Which I know is obvious, but for some reason it didn't really occur to me. I mean, it never struck me that h-” Roy stops himself, then says, “Never mind. Anyways, the new guy, Tristan, who is a horrible human being, is about to bring me even more paperwork.” He looks up at Ed, expression schooled into one of sincere solemnity. “How do you feel about stopping him for me?”

Ed barks a hesitant laugh. “I dunno. I’m not so sure I could take him. I haven't exactly been in a fight recently.”

"Well," Roy says, "with you being out of practice and my reduced field of vision, I guess we'll have to use our ultimate team attack." He moves to stand behind Ed, then hooks his arms under Ed's and lifts. Or at least, tries to. It isn't very effective, considering Ed is nearly as tall as him. Ed is laughing so hard he is nearly doubled over, so Roy shifts to try and lift Ed up again.

"Stop! This is highly unprofessional! You're nearly the leader of our country, you can't go throwing people at people you don't like just because you want to!"

"What? I thought you said I was a Colonel."

"Fine, fine, _General_ Mustang!" Ed manages to choke out through his laughter.

Roy stops trying to lift him. "Thank you. Finally, some respect. And I suppose that team attack isn't practical now anyways, seeing as you've gotten a bit taller."

When Ed turns around Roy is struck by how fond he looks. Not quite meeting his eyes, Ed clears his throat and says, “Can I hug you or would that be weird?”

Roy makes an odd noise, sort of like a strangled huff of laughter that leaves Ed looking confused. But he answers his question by wrapping his arms around Ed’s shoulders and pulling him into a hug. Ed doesn’t say anything, just reciprocates the gesture and rests his forehead on Roy’s shoulder.

Roy wonders if Ed is remembering the same thing - the only other time they had hugged. It was at the end of the Promised Day, when he was sitting outside. It was brief, but Roy still remembers it vividly. He remembers still being blind in both eyes and someone wrapping their arms around him. Roy tentatively raised his arms to hug the person back, ending up touching braided hair. The person’s breath caught as Roy moved his hand down the braid- _Yeah, seems like the length of-_

“Edward?” Roy asked.

“Yeah,” came Edward’s muffled response. They stayed there on the ground a few moments, Roy tightening his grip and Edward burrowing his face into the crook of his neck.

“Ed!” someone- Roy can’t remember who- called out. Roy felt Edward lift his head. The teenager hugged him tighter for just a moment before pulling away. “I’ll be back,” he said.

The office door opening pulls Roy back into reality. It makes Ed jerk and he makes to pull away, but Roy looks over Ed’s shoulder and says, “Hello, Hawkeye.” Ed relaxes at that.

“Hello, sir. Hello, Edward.”  

Still not pulling away, Ed turns his head to greet her. “Hello, Lieutenant Colonel Hawkeye!”

“Oh, what, she gets called by her correct rank, but I get called Colonel?”

“It’s because she’s cooler than you,” Ed retorts immediately.

Hawkeye smiles, clearly trying to rein in a grin. “Not attempting strangulation of our soon-to-be Fuhrer, I hope?” she asks him evenly.

“Ah, looks like you caught me. My apologies, ma’am, won’t happen again.” He lets go of Roy, who lets go of him with a snort, stepping back.

A phone rings from the other room. Hawkeye sighs. “I think that’s my phone,” she says. “See you later, Edward.”

“See ya!” Ed says, waving. Roy notes the lack of gloves, and stomps down the impulse to touch his eyepatch.

After the door closes, there’s silence. A moment later, when Ed turns around to face him, Roy asks, “So, how are things?”

“Good. Can you believe we’ve been living in our house for seven years now?” Ed is referring to the house he shares with Alphonse, which they rebuilt near the Rockbells. He sounds content, which is a relief.

“And how are you?” Ed asks.

“Great,” Roy answers, and when Ed doesn’t say anything, just gives him that _look,_ he adds, “Much better than a couple years ago. And not just because I’m becoming Fuhrer.”

This seems to satisfy Ed enough to drop it. “You know,” Roy says, changing the subject. “Speaking of which, you know how you promised to pay me back once I’ve become Fuhrer?” He holds out his hand. “Pay up.”

“What?” Ed squawks. “You- you haven’t become Fuhrer _yet_!”

“Fine, but I expect those 520 cenz the moment after my inauguration.”

“Uh, what day is that again?”

“June 26th.”

“Oh…” Ed trails off, pretending to think about it. “Sorry, I won’t be able to be there. I’ll have to pay you back later than that, maybe around Christmas? Or…”

“You’re a terrible liar, Elric.”

Ed grins. “Of course I’ll be there.”

“Edward!” Hawkeye calls from the other room. “Alphonse is here!”

“Okay, coming!” He walks towards the door. “C’mon, you wouldn’t believe-”

“Ed- do I look like him?”

Roy regrets the question as soon as he says it. It was a stupid question, and he felt even more stupid for asking Ed, who was about 14 years his junior. He shouldn’t be worrying Ed with his foolish insecurities. He’s about to tell Ed to forget it when Ed fixes him with a determined stare.

“You look nothing like him.” He pauses, then, attempting a smile, says, ”You know, you’d look even better with that sparkly eyepatch I sent you.”

Roy snorts.

“In all seriousness,” Ed says. “You are _nothing_ like him. I’m-” He looks away for a moment, then- “You’re a good person, Roy. And I’m glad you’re becoming Fuhrer. I can’t think of another person better for the job.”

Roy thinks back to when he was blind in both eyes. To Ed asking for permission to lead him around by the arm for the first time, his voice soft. He remembers talking of resignation, of maybe deserving this, and Ed’s hand gripping his arm tightly and saying “ _Bullshit._ ”

Maybe he doesn’t quite deserve bodily functions being taken away from him, but he certainly doesn’t deserve Ed.

“Thanks, kid,” he says, walking past Ed, only stopping to ruffle his hair. Ed scowls and smooths it back down.

“As I was saying,” Ed says. “Al is bringing the cat he adopted a few days ago. He named it _Mr. Cat._ ”

“That… is _great_ ,” Roy replies, grin widening as Ed scoffs in disbelief.

“ _Don’t enable him!_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> My mom is friends with this couple who named their cat Mr. Cat. It's incredible.  
> Anyways, whoa, that took me a lot longer to write than I thought it would. Drop a kudo and/or comment if you'd like! :)


End file.
